


Retrospection

by fatalchild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatalchild/pseuds/fatalchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer recounts his time in Heaven, his reasons for rebelling, and the bond with a younger brother that changed everything one night in Carthage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrospection

Have you ever heard the story of how I fell from grace…?

I find that people put a great deal of stock in fairy tales. They spin stories about angelic envy, talking serpents, and accursed fruit, as if that is what any of it was ever about. It’s been a very, very long time, but I still remember every detail, and let me tell you something: it had nothing to do with that.

The Earth is both very old and very young. Compared to the life forms it bears, it’s ancient, but compared to something like me, it’s practically infantile. For the longest time, we were its keepers. We thought it had been created for us, and we were the ones who nurtured it and made sure it developed properly. It was beautiful, shining with a thousand intricacies that nurtured life and encouraged growth. And then came humanity, and as soon as they came, they began to destroy.

I remember the day it happened. I was standing, watching, and I felt a familiar hum of grace coming to my side. When I met Castiel’s eyes, he was smiling, bright and cheerful as ever.

“Hello, brother,” I said, trying to seem less troubled than I was, but he caught it. He always could.

“Lucifer? Are you alright?”

“I’m just… watching.”

“They are fascinating, aren’t they?”

“That’s one word for it.” I think he knew then, but he didn’t say anything.

“Michael’s looking for you,” he said.

“Why?”

“He’s giving an announcement shortly and wishes to make sure you’re informed.”

“Consider me informed,” I muttered. It was hard to be angry with Castiel so close to me. Of course, we’re angels; we’re not supposed to feel this broad depth of emotions, and we’re certainly not supposed to feel unequal levels of love for our brothers. He was special though. His grace hummed with such a profound faith, radiated such a beautiful light. He drew close to me, and I forgot, for an instant, that I was upset.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’m sure everything will turn out exactly as it was meant to.”

He was right, of course, but that was part of the problem.

We gathered at the center of Heaven, throngs of angels waiting in calm silence. Anticipation and curiosity were things we’d not yet been introduced to, but I felt them. I felt a great deal of things that we were not supposed to. Paramount in that moment was dread, and I kept my young brother against me, tucked him under my wings as if I somehow believed if I could shield him from the words, I could shield him from their implications.

Michael stood before us, fierce and stern and glorious. He did not look to me, which I suppose I should have found more troubling than I did. I discounted the distance because I did not want to believe that anything was really happening, certainly not anything that should affect me directly.

“I have received revelation from our Father,” he announced, voice echoing across Heaven, demanding our total, and undivided attention. “We have long known that a race would come to superiority on Earth, and now, they have been made known. Mankind are to be our Father’s most dearly beloved children, and we are to be their guardians. From this moment on, we shall yield Earth to them in its entirety. We shall protect and guard them, bow to them in devout service, and love them wholly and unconditionally, above all else.”

If he kept talking, which I’m sure he did, I didn’t hear any of it. I was looking around, looking to the faces of my siblings for some sign that someone realized how insane this was, but everyone looked calm. Even my dear Castiel, still pressed so closely to my side, didn’t seem to understand. Love humans above all else? Why was everyone simply accepting this? Michael had to have misheard; he had to be mistaken. I heard Castiel call to me some time later, and that’s how I knew I was still sitting there gaping dumbly.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing. I don’t know. I need to go talk to Michael. I’ll come to you later. I promise.”

He gave me a bewildered look but didn’t press me for answers. Thinking back, I believe I may have been trying to shield him, even then. There was no way of saying that I had questions—questions for Michael, questions for Father, but I did. I had so many questions.

I found Michael standing alone, stern and silent as ever. He was watching a cluster of stars in the distance, watching them explode into particles of light and dust.

“Hello, little brother,” he said, voice flat and distant.

“Michael. …What was that?”

“What was what?”

“What you said earlier, about humanity.”

“Father’s word, Lucifer. Nothing less.”

“And that we should ‘love them above all else’ were also Father’s words?”

“Yes, Lucifer. I delivered the orders as they were given to me.”

“…Above even Him?”

Michael was silent.

“And you don’t see any problem with—“

It didn’t hurt, really. I was more surprised than anything, shocked at the fact that Michael had just hit me. I held my face where the slight sting lingered and stared at him with wide, probably horrified eyes.

“Stop it,” he hissed. “Just stop it, Lucifer. You don’t know what you’re saying. These are orders, and you will obey them. Do you understand me?”

“…I understand.” I stared at him silently for a moment before I began to back away.

“Lucifer…”

“I said I understand.”

I didn’t hurry away. I thought he would follow me. I wanted him to follow me, to talk to me, to try to explain what was happening to me, to _help_ me, but he didn’t. He just stood there and watched me go. For a moment, I thought he looked a little sad, and now I realize that he must have known the plan, all of it, even before I did. He had already resigned himself to my death.

I sat alone for a very long time. I should like to say that I contemplated disobedience, that I logically weighed my options and reached a decision, but I didn’t. That was the tragedy of it all: I had no options. This was not an order that I could simply choose to follow. One cannot choose to love like that. I could not. I cannot. That was the crux of the entire issue. The only choice that presented itself was that I could be disobedient (which no angel ever had, mind you) or I could somehow convince Father to change his orders, to not demand something so impossible of me. I suppose when I think on it now, that is its own form of disobedience, so once more, I had no choice.

Though I had already decided, I was still contemplating when I felt Castiel’s grace behind me. There was neither any word nor even any concept of what I was about to do, but the air was thick with a sense of foreboding and there seemed to be a strange distance between us that kept him from approaching.

“Hello, little brother,” I called to him.

He came forward slowly and glanced up at me. “You’re troubled,” he said.

“Merely thinking.”

He nodded, and then his small arms were around me, his form pressing into my back and parting my wings to wrap around him. I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck when he spoke, and he only said the one word: “please”. He didn’t know what he was asking because he didn’t know the plan back then, but I had figured out enough to understand what he meant. Don’t question, don’t doubt, don’t even think. I couldn’t help it. I wish I could have.

“You know that I love you,” I told him, and he nodded against my shoulder.

“Yes.”

Time stopped mattering then. There was no rush. I was already disobedient in my heart, and delaying the words by a matter of hours or days or weeks would have made no fundamental difference. I believe I thought, for a moment, that if we were very still, we could spend an eternity unnoticed, that maybe nothing would ever be asked of us and the way I felt about so many things wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t make trouble, I swore silently. I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. I would just stand here and exist quietly, wrapped up in Castiel’s grace. There would be no such luck, and deep down, I knew it… the same way I knew that we were saying goodbye, on some level. It was the last time I can ever remember being happy at all.

The stories say that I started a war. They tell of a mighty rebellion rising up in Heaven and a great clash of angelic strength in the heat of battle. Well, the stories lie. There was no revolt, no uprising, no battle. There was just the one conversation.

I went to Michael, and he greeted me with the sort of sad look that said he already knew, but he was my brother—my older brother who had taken care of me for my entire life. He had to listen to me. He had to stand with me. We were just going to _talk_.

“Hello, Lucifer,” he said quietly.

“Michael. …I need to talk to you.”

“Yes. I know.”

“It isn’t right.”

“Please stop. Little brother, please don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what, Michael? Don’t think? Don’t feel? Don’t—“

“Don’t disobey, Lucifer. This is Father’s will, and you must abide by it.”

“I can’t.” I turned my face upwards and called out to God directly, imploring Him, begging Him, stretching my grace towards that ever-present light that I adored above all other things. “Father, I can’t. I cannot make myself feel something that I don’t. I cannot love them more than I love you.”

“You have your orders, Lucifer,” Michael said, voice sudden and sharp and fierce. “…And I have mine. Please. I won’t ask you again.”

I looked at my brother, I looked to my Father, and I said, once more, “I can’t.”

I suppose it was all very sudden then and rather acutely painful. I was cut off in an instant. I could feel myself being severed from the host before I even understood that such a thing was possible. There was an exquisite, sickening flash of agony, and I realized that Michael and I were fighting. Physically fighting. Angels had never done that before, but we fell into it easily, instinctively, as if we had been created for this, as if it had all been planned, and that was the most disgusting thing of all.

  
That was the last time I saw Heaven, the last time I saw any of my brothers or sisters, the last time I heard their voices or felt the warmth of the host. I lost count of how many years I spent in that Cage. I know it was long enough that the cold seeped down to my very core and stripped away every part of myself that wasn’t sharp, icy rage. I felt myself twisting and changing in the depths of that horrible place. I felt hatred for the first time, and it mixed with a bitter resentment when the plan was finally revealed to me. But with all that suffering there came a certain kind of knowledge and a certain kind of power. I knew how it would all play out, and all I had to do was wait.

I have been waiting for a very long time.

Everything had led up to this moment. People were hunting me, and while that was unfortunate, it was also something easily worked to my advantage. They knew where I was, and that meant he would be there, my vessel, the one who could help me end all this. I was finally going to meet him face to face. I had it all worked out, everything planned out so perfectly, or so I thought, but then the demon girl came in and asked me, “what about the angel?”

I turned to face her, eyebrows up. “What angel?”

“The Winchesters have an angel with them, guarding them.”

“Do you know this angel’s name?”

“Word on the street is… uh… Cas or something?”

I felt my blood run colder than it already was. Cas… couldn’t mean Castiel. Oh, but it made sense. This is how Father will mock me, by pitting one of my most beloveds against me. It’s cruelty, absolute cruelty. The rush of memories was enough to knock the air out of my vessel’s lungs, but I managed to speak.

“Leave him to me,” I told her, waving a hand to dismiss her. I could see by her smile that she misjudged my intentions, but I didn’t care to correct her. Everything I had planned suddenly seemed less important, and I was consumed with the desperate need to see him, to see if it was actually him.

And it was. Even encased inside this vessel he was absolutely breathtaking, even still. His eyes were bright and fierce through the line of holy fire—a trap he walked right into. He came to me, of course. He was drawn here. He was meant to be here. I approached him silently, and I knew in an instant that something wasn’t right. His grace was muted, stifled under a weight that was only too familiar to me. My Castiel had fallen… still beautiful, maybe even more so.

Fear touched his features, and I realized that he’d probably forgotten so much. The host would have wanted to eradicate any lingering feelings of tenderness that he might have had for me, to make him a proper soldier. My heart broke then, more than it ever had before. But no. He knew me. He called me by name, and I smiled.

“So I take it you’re here with the Winchesters?” I asked, stepping forward.

He swallowed thickly. “I came alone.”

I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his thinking that he could actually lie to my face, but I resisted. It’s a beautiful sentiment, in its way, even if misguided. “Loyalty. Such a nice quality to see in this day and age. Castiel, right?” I knew it was him, really, but I wanted him to know that I knew, to know that I can recognize his grace even under the cloud of humanity that hovered about him. He nodded, slow and deliberate, and I returned the gesture. “Castiel. I’m told you came here in an automobile?”

“Yes?”

“What was that like?”

“Um… Slow. Confining.”

I nodded in feigned understanding. “What a peculiar thing you are…”

His eyes moved over me in quiet evaluation, and I’ve been waiting for him to notice. “What’s wrong with your vessel?” he asked, and while he tried to play it off as simple curiosity, I heard the concern in his voice.

“Yes… Um… Nick is wearing a bit thin, I’m afraid. He can’t contain me forever, so—“

“You!” He lunged for me, nearly catching himself in the fire, and his eyes blazed more beautifully than it ever could. “You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won’t let you.”

He believed this, which was fascinating. It’s that passion, that intensity, that brilliant devotion that shines so brightly within him that has always captivated me. I wanted to brush the flames aside and hold him, press my vessel against his and twist our graces up like we used to so long ago, but he didn’t remember, didn’t understand.

“Castiel. I don’t know why you’re fighting me, of all the angels.”

“You really have to ask?”

“I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of Heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what?”

His eyes narrowed in a question.

“You’re their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?”

I watched his face, and I could see a flicker of doubt, a moment of contemplation, but he looked up, eyes bright and bold and daring.

“I’ll die first.”

Those words were crueler than any sword that could slice through me because he meant them, and in that instant, I saw it all. I saw his future. I saw blood and death, pain and fear, a world dripping in blackness that I didn’t understand, and this beautiful, remarkable angel lost beneath it all.

“I suppose you will…”

I stepped away, leaning against the wall and evaluating him. If he continued down this path, he would die, and I couldn’t bear it. I simply couldn’t.

“Why?” I asked suddenly.

“Why… what?”

“Why are they worth this?”

“They are my friends.”

“I’m your family.”

Castiel’s face twisted, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes. “You were,” he said softly.

I stepped forward, right to the edge of the flames, and I could feel the heat rising over my skin, but I didn’t care. I wanted to reach through. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and make him understand. For a moment, I was speechless, watching his resolve crumble, his expression fall.

“You left me,” he said, voice breaking. “You left me, Lucifer.”

“I had to.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“I couldn’t help it, Castiel. I can’t love them. I can’t.”

“So you’re just going to destroy them? Destroy everything?”

For the first time in so long… I felt doubt.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“Lucifer, please…”

I looked up at him then, an unfamiliar dampness trickling down my cheeks, and I wished I knew what he was asking me. “…Do you love me?”

Castiel noded. “That’s the point…”

“What?”

“If you continue with this, Michael will destroy you. I can’t bear it, Lucifer, and you can’t ask me to. You can’t ask me to lose you again.”

I stared quietly at him for a long time, and the doubt was suddenly gone. I believe him. Castiel is pure and sincere, genuine in everything he does. After all this time… he still loves me. A flick of my wrist extinguished the flames, and he was in my arms in an instant. The brush of skin was less foreign than it should have been, and the way our lips pressed together was born of an instinct that angels shouldn’t have. But we do, and it was perfect. I could feel the warmth of Heaven again as his wings brushed mine, and I tasted his grace dancing over my tongue. Happiness. I had forgotten it.

“Stand with me,” I whispered, cupping his face in my hands. “There will be no battle, but I have to be able to defend myself. Trust me. I have a plan, but I need your help. I need you, little brother.”

Castiel stared up at me for a long moment and then gave me a solemn nod.

It looked like a clever escape, I’m sure, but it wasn’t. Everything was planned out. We met, from time to time, cloaked in darkness and secret, by necessity, of course. I’m not telling you all this to upset you. I’m telling you so that perhaps you’ll understand. Do you understand now? Everything I have done has been for love. I loved my Father, and I loved my brothers. I love Castiel. I’m trying to protect these things. No different than you, really.

So what do you say? Am I such a monster that you would have me executed for the crime of thought? The crime of emotion? Or are you, perhaps, ready to say yes?


End file.
